Dr Cullen's Coat
by FemaleChauvinist
Summary: With her daughter dangerously ill, Roxy Wilberson finds comfort from the warmth of the doctor's coat.


**Disclaimer:** While the attempt has been made to be medically accurate, some artistic license has been taken, and statements made by Carlisle and other medical personnel are not to be regarded as authoritative.

Recognizable characters and plotlines are the property of Stephenie Meyer; all original characters and story © 2017 FemaleChauvinist.

 _Do not post without permission. Do not copy/print without including the above disclaimer in its entirety._

 **Roxy Wilburson**

Normally I didn't mind the remoteness of our little house; I even liked it. It was a little lonely sometimes, when my truck driver husband was away, but I had Nadia to keep me company. She was four, and made so many cute remarks that I was keeping a journal of them.

But then came the day Nadia got sick. She had been feverish all the night before, but seemed to get a little better in the morning. Now her fever was rising, and I couldn't get it down with medication or cool cloths. Her breathing seemed fast and shallow.

I decided finally to call for help, only to hear the absolute silence of a dead line. I knew at once what had happened; the windstorm the night before must have blown a branch on the phone lines. We were always the last to have our service repaired, if the company was even aware that the line was down. I had no cell phone; what was the use when you couldn't get a good signal here, anyway? I would have to drive Nadia to the hospital myself.

She whimpered as I buckled her in her car seat, but her head lolled to the side frighteningly. I hurried to get another cool cloth from the house before getting into the driver's seat. "Hang on, Naddie," I whispered.

It was a forty-five minute drive to the nearest town; barely ten minutes into the trip the car's engine coughed to a stop. "No!" I groaned, drifting to the shoulder. "Not now!" I attempted to restart the car, but knew it was no use. I whimpered myself as I leaned my head on the steering wheel and tried to think.

Suddenly there was a tap on my window; I jumped and looked up to see a man peering in with concern in his golden eyes. I rolled the window down a few inches.

"Is everything all right, ma'am?" he asked quietly.

"Please," I choked. "My baby's sick; I was driving her to the hospital when my car broke down." I would accept a ride with this man, stranger or not, if only he would offer!"

"I'm a doctor," he said quietly; "Dr Carlisle Cullen."

My breath caught in a gasp of hope.

"Bring her to my car," he continued, "and I'll see what I can do." The next instant, he had disappeared from my window, leaving me wondering for a moment if I had only imagined him.

I fumbled with the buckles on Nadia's car seat, my fingers made clumsy in my haste. As I lifted her out, her hot body lay limp in my arms. I bent to press my lips to her burning forehead. "You'll be all right, Naddie," I whispered.

The doctor's car was shiny and black; I didn't know much about cars, but this one screamed, _Money_ _!_ The back door was open, as if in invitation.

As I slid in with Nadia, I saw that the doctor already sat on the wide back seat, his bag opened beside him.

"What's her name?" he asked softly, reaching to take her from my arms.

"Nadia. And I'm Roxanne — Roxy — Wilburson." I pulled the door shut, but the cabin light stayed on.

He pressed his hand to Nadia's forehead, frowning as he realized how hot she was. Leaning between the front seats, he adjusted the settings on the air conditioner. I shivered, as much from fear as from the blast of cool air that came from the vents.

"Sorry," he murmured, "but we have to get her cooled down." He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to me; I pulled it around my shoulders without putting my arms through the sleeves, huddling into the thick material.

"How long has she been feverish?"

"Since last night; she seemed a little better this morning, but this afternoon her temperature just kept getting higher."

"Have you been giving her anything for the fever?"

"Children's Tylenol…as often as the box said."

"When was her last dose?"

"About an hour ago."

"Has she shown any other symptoms; vomiting, complaining of pain?"

I shook my head, watching wordlessly as he continued his examination. He had not been idle as he questioned me, shining a penlight in Nadia's eyes, gently feeling her throat, looking in her mouth and ears. He briefly pressed his stethoscope to her chest, then slipped on a pair of gloves and prepared a syringe from his bag. "This should help get her fever down," he explained, sliding the needle into her arm. Nadia didn't flinch, and I pulled the coat tighter around my shoulders.

"There now, sweetheart," he murmured. He pulled off his gloves and ran his fingers through the hair at her temples. "Thou just needs to get cooled off a little."

After a few minutes, he nodded slowly. "Her temperature's dropped down a little; I'm going to start heading toward the hospital." I couldn't recall seeing him use a thermometer before, and he certainly hadn't now; were his fingers sensitive enough that he didn't need one?

"Buckle up," he reminded me softly, wrapping the center seatbelt around Nadia as she lay there. He shut his bag and set it on the floor before slipping between the front seats and sliding into the driver's seat. He looked once more over his shoulder. "Let me know if you need me back there."

I nodded, then let my head fall against the back of the seat. Silent tears slid down my face as I watched my sick daughter.

And then Nadia stopped breathing.

Before I even had time to realize what was happening, Dr Cullen was pulling the car to a stop at the side of the road. As I screamed my daughter's name, he appeared between the seats, bending over her, forcing his breath into her lungs. In the longest five minutes of my life, he had Nadia breathing again. He brushed a hand over her forehead and shined his penlight into her eyes before turning and putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. "She's stable now," he said quietly. "We're only five minutes from the hospital; I'm going to try to make it the rest of the way."

As he drove, he pulled out a cell phone, calling the hospital to alert them of our coming and have certain supplies ready. I heard him order oxygen, and purposely stopped listening; my knuckles were going white with clutching the collar of his coat.

I had assumed five minutes was an understatement; we hadn't been traveling for more than five or ten minutes before he had stopped to help Nadia. But as we began to drive on busier roads, I realized just how fast we were going; in anyone else I would have called it reckless driving. But he wove between lanes so smoothly, driving with one hand as he spoke on his phone, that even when we were on the wrong side of the road heading straight into oncoming traffic with horns blaring around us, I felt safer than I did driving myself. He exhibited a calm confidence that made me feel sure he was in complete control.

He pulled into a parking spot near the emergency entrance to the hospital, parking perfectly straight between the white lines.

He opened the back door and gently lifted Nadia out. "All right, sweetheart," he said quietly. "We'll have thee feeling better soon." Then he was there, opening my door and offering me a hand to get out. I took it blindly, noticing absently how cold his hand was; it must have been right in front of the air conditioner vent.

"Stay here in the waiting room," he told me quietly, and carried my daughter out of sight.

I sat studying the lapels of his coat for what seemed like hours. When he returned, it was so silently that I didn't realize he was there until he spoke my name. "Mrs Wilburson?"

I jumped to my feet, one hand clutching the coat over my shoulders. "How is she?"

He smiled gently. "If you're going to wear that, why don't you put it on all the way?" he suggested quietly. He lifted it from my shoulders, holding it for me to slide my arms into the sleeves. I crossed my arms across my chest, glad he hadn't asked for it back. "How is she?" I whispered again.

"Stable." His smile was warm. "She'll be fine," he assured me.

My shoulders slumped slightly in relief; his hand hovered behind my back as if to catch me if I fainted. "May I…see her?"

"Of course."

He walked slightly behind me through the hall, then stepped forward to push open the door. I hurried inside, catching my breath at the sight of Nadia lying so still on the bed, an IV line running to her hand and plastic oxygen tubes in her nose.

"She'll be fine," Dr Cullen assured me again. "It's a virus; the infection itself isn't dangerous. My main concern was her high fever, but we seem to have that under control now." He nodded at the woman beside Nadia's bed. "Thank you, Rose."

The nurse smiled sympathetically at me before slipping out of the room.

I brushed two fingers across Nadia's forehead; even I could tell she felt cooler.

"Oh, I called my children to go get your car for you," Dr Cullen said as if he just happened to think of it.

I stared at him, uncomprehending. "You — have children…driving?" He appeared far too young to have teenaged children.

He chuckled. "Adopted," he explained.

I shook my head dazedly as something else occurred to me. "But the car broke down."

"They're good with cars," he told me. "I would imagine they'll be able to fix it."

My mind was too numb to fully register what he was saying; I sank into the chair at the side of Nadia's bed and pulled my hands further into the sleeves of Dr Cullen's coat.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the steady beep of the heart monitor. Then the door swung open, and two teenagers came in. The boy was smiling, laughing; the girl, blonde and beautiful, had her lip twisted as if in disgust. She stopped in the doorway, leaning disinterestedly against the frame. The boy came forward and dropped my keys in my lap; if either of them was surprised to see me wearing their father's coat, they didn't show it. "It's parked next to Carlisle's Mercedes," he told me. I stared at him, wide-eyed.

Dr Cullen stepped forward. "Mrs Wilburson, my son Edward and daughter Rosalie. Edward, Rosalie, Roxanne Wilburson."

The boy nodded. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am." He put his hands in his back pockets and moved to stand by his father, still chuckling over some private joke.

The girl sighed. "Come _on_ , Edward!"

"Rosalie," Dr Cullen said quietly. Edward murmured something I didn't catch, and the doctor turned to me. "Mrs Wilburson, when was the last time you ate?"

"I don't know…breakfast?"

"Rose, why don't you take her down to the cafeteria?"

"But Nadia!" I protested.

"I'll watch her," he promised gently. "You go on; we don't want you getting sick, too."

I didn't want to follow the cold, haughty Rosalie, but somehow Dr Cullen didn't seem like the type of person you said no to.

She led me to a table at the small cafeteria. "What do you want to eat?" she asked abruptly.

I shrugged; I _didn't_ want to eat. She disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a tray of food and a cup of coffee. "I've heard hospital food isn't very good," she said with a note of apology I hadn't expected in her voice. She sat down across from me, watching as I picked at the food. I honestly couldn't have told what it tasted like, though the coffee was too strong and I drank only a few sips.

The tray was only half empty when I pushed it away. "I can't eat anymore," I said half desperately. "I have to go see Nadia."

"Carlisle's with her," Rosalie reminded me, her voice softened still further to be almost sympathetic.

"I want to see her," I insisted, wrapping my arms around myself.

She stood smoothly, dumping my tray in the garbage can before leading me back to Nadia's room.

Edward leaned easily against the wall, talking with Dr Cullen, who was seated by Nadia's bed but got to his feet as I entered the room.

"How is she?" I asked anxiously.

"She's fine," he assured me gently. He took a step forward, frowning as he studied my face. "Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked bluntly.

I shook my head; in truth between worry and tiredness I felt ready to snap; it seemed like the doctor's heavy wool jacket was all that was keeping me sane.

Edward moved to stand beside his father, speaking quietly to him. Dr Cullen nodded once. "You have to sleep," he told me firmly. "Edward, you and Rosalie take her to the hotel and get her a room."

Again I felt unable to argue with the doctor, and stopped only to gently kiss Nadia's forehead.

"I'll take care of her," Dr Cullen promised softly.

Only that promise made me able to follow Edward and Rosalie from the room.

My car was parked between the doctor's shiny black one and an equally shiny, expensive-looking silver car.

"She's in no condition to drive," Edward said quietly to his sister.

Rosalie sighed and turned to me, holding her hand out. I stared at it blankly.

"Your keys," she hissed.

"Rose," Edward quietly, as I fished the keys out of Dr Cullen's coat pocket and dropped them in her hand. Rosalie would be driving my car, I understood, and without meaning to I moved a step closer to the silver car. Edward smiled, instantly moving to open the passenger door for me.

I let my head lean back against the seat, hardly hearing as he got in. He adjusted the radio, and soon soft, soothing music was filling the car.

I was beginning to doze off when Edward pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot of a hotel. It was one of the better hotels, not a cheap roadside inn, but that thought didn't fully register in my benumbed mind as Edward opened my door and gave me a hand out.

He ushered me inside and spoke in low tones with the clerk at the desk; it was only as he turned toward me with a room keycard in his hand that I realized what a night in this place must cost.

"Edward," I whispered frantically, "I can't afford —" Just the hospital and doctor bills were going to be expensive enough.

Edward put a hand on my arm. "It's all taken care of," he assured me smoothly. He looked at me strangely, almost as if he could hear what I had been thinking. "And I really don't think Carlisle is going to insist on being paid more than you can afford."

He unlocked the door to the room and stepped back to let me inside. "Is there anything you need?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head wordlessly, standing stock still as he left the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

I fell onto the bed, kicking my shoes off but keeping Dr Cullen's coat pulled tightly around me. It was really too warm in the slightly overheated room, but it seemed to embody his promise to me: _"_ _She'll be fine_ _."_ The thought of taking it off brought with it the cold knot of fear in my stomach. But wearing his coat, smelling his manly, woodsy scent, I remembered how fast he had responded when Nadia had stopped breathing and drifted to sleep knowing that my daughter was safe in his care.

 **oOo**

I woke early the next morning, and got out of bed to see the keycard lying next to my car keys on the table. Underneath the keys was a crisp fifty-dollar bill.

I stared at the money, loathe to take it, but reasoned that if these Cullens could afford expensive cars, they probably didn't consider fifty dollars to be all that much.

I bought a bagel in the hotel restaurant, eating it as I walked to the front to check out. I got directions from the clerk to get to the hospital.

It took longer to drive there than I had expected; I wondered if I had merely slept more in the car than I realized, or if Edward's driving was anything like his father's. Not that I thought he drove like that all the time; he had been concerned for my daughter.

I parked next to Dr Cullen's car and hurried inside.

Nadia's door was slightly open; I could see Dr Cullen bent over to examine her. As I stood there, he turned toward me with a smile. "Come in, Mrs Wilburson."

"Mama!" Nadia exclaimed.

My breath caught as I hurried forward to catch my little girl in a hug. "Oh, Naddie!"

"I'd like to keep her a few more hours before releasing her," Dr Cullen told me, "but I'd say the danger is past."

I straightened, keeping my eyes on him as I slowly let his coat slip off my arms. "Thank you," I said softly, holding it out to him.

He smiled as he draped it over his arm; his eyes looked at me as though, somehow, he understood. *

The End

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